


Inevitable

by EllieCarina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonerys, got season 7, jon x dany - Freeform, reddit leak, season 7, season 7 leak, season 7 speculation, speculative fic, spoiler - Freeform, spoiler warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCarina/pseuds/EllieCarina
Summary: So, Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen finally met. What happens next? (Season 7 speculation/spoiler fic)***There are MAJOR FILMING SPOILERS ahead as well as main points of the reddit plot-leak (that you might believe or not believe). I have operated with the premise that it’s all true to write this little fic right here but I don’t want that to say that I believe it all, just that it inspired me.This is a Jonerys Leak/Spoiler fic, trying to incorporate some of the juiciest spoilers we’ve gotten so far. // Unbeta'd.





	

In the afternoon, the storm that was supposed to hit the fortress of Dragonstone was merely an idea, a certain smell that foretold what was about to come. As Daenerys Stormborn followed the so-called King in the North to the boat and a small, steadfast crew awaited him, she pondered how little she was used to the rough climate of the west. Even with the wind little more than a breeze and the waves rolling softly onto the grey sand, as if caressing more than hitting, she felt alert and restless. She could feel the storm in her bones, a certain anxiety faced with the unease that it would bring. At least that was what she was willing to admit to herself. Staring at Jon Snow’s broad leather-clad back as he walked ahead of her, she tried to push away any worry or thought of his well-being. Not that she didn’t care. Of course she did. He, same as all the new people she had met on this strange continent that didn’t feel half as much as home as it should, was a subject. Thus, naturally, she wanted him to be safe on his journey. But the fear in the pit of her stomach was proving to be a little disconcerting. It ran too deep, too close to her heart. It was the kind of fear that had once gripped her when Drogo set out to fight, the kind of fear she had when she wondered what would happen to Missandei and Grey Worm, should her efforts of conquering Westeros fail. Those were the people closest to her -- and she had known Jon Snow little over a month. Her concern for him was getting out of hand.

 

Her handmaiden studied her from the corner of her eye. Dany could tell. Missandei had kept closer watch over her since she returned from the failed Lannister ambush. Maybe for worry, maybe for some other reason. The only thing Daenerys knew, was that Missandei had an idea of what was going on in her queen’s head. Dany suspected Tyrion knew as well but he was the most perceptive man she had ever met so this wasn’t surprising. She supposed her hand was rather delighted about it all as well. He had introduced Jon carefully as the likely heir to Winterfell and thereby to the north. Dany had not questioned this, even when Jon had told her that both his trueborn sisters and Bran Stark had returned to their family seat, which meant that a bastard born like him had lost his rights to it. She didn’t think the north having declared for him as their king would really change this when all was said and done. But still. They way matters appeared, Tyrion was suggesting she marry Snow to secure the loyalties of the north and Daenerys found herself more than willing to accept. However Jon did not seem to think on it.

 

Since the beginning, all he was after was enlisting her forces and most importantly her dragons in his fight against what he called White Walkers and their army of the undead. She had her problems believing such wild tales but the wolf bastard had proven himself to be stubborn and passionate in pursuing his cause. Hence his nearly running towards the boat that sat there ahead of them on the shore. It would take him to a ship, which would take him to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea where he would set out to capture such an undead creature for her and the rest of the south to see. So that they would believe him. So that _she_ would believe him. But didn’t she already? A little voice whispered in the back of her head, speaking of the risks of sending him away on this mission. And not just him, Jorah too, who couldn’t be held back. Was she risking their safety to prove something she truly already believed? Because she did, if she was honest. Just going off Jon’s word, she did. But alas, it was no use. If Jon was to be believed, he needed the Lannister forces despite all current quarrels over land and regency and the only way to secure those troops was by convincing Cersei Lannister, the pretender queen, that the threat from beyond the wall was a real one.

 

A stronger breeze caught her flowing robe and made the last steps to where Jon Snow had already stopped walking the heaviest so far. Missandei stayed behind, Tyrion taking up her place beside his queen. The northern king ran his fingers lightly over the wooden railing and seemed deep in thought. Still, as Dany halted her steps an arms length away from him, he turned his face to her, eyes squinting the way he did so often.

“Are you sure that you don’t want more of my Unsullied to come with you?” Daenerys asked him, already knowing he would decline it.

“No, your grace,” he said, “best to save your men any unnecessary trip. They will have to brave the north soon enough.”

Without thinking, Dany put her hand firmly on Jon’s arm, immediately feeling thwo sets of eyes on her fingers; Jorah’s immediately and then Tyrion’s, though his gaze burnt the harshest. He saw everything but she cast it aside and focused only on Jon.

“Do you need more dragon glass?” Dany glanced over the bundle of newly carved spears and daggers lying in the boat, enough to supply each of the men travelling with Snow with at least three blades.

“If we can’t make do with what we have, we are lost anyway,” Jon answered, his eyes never wandering down to where her hand dug into his arm but she could feel his muscles tense under the touch all the same.

“Be careful,” she warned, conceding that there was nothing left for her to do and turning to the others, although her hand remained where it was, “all of you. I wish to see you all again, in one piece. And _alive_.”

 

The men muttered thanks and assurances and she nodded and smiled at Jorah in particular but there was a shadow over his face, even as he smiled back at her. It must’ve had something to do with the man she was still holding on to. Somehow, now, as the time came, she did not want to see him go. But she had to and so she did. Jon nodded at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips and then he walked to the front of the boat, giving a silent command to start pushing it into the sea. Dany breathed in and out deeply once they were afloat, Tyrion standing firm beside her.

“He will be fine,” he said to her. “He’s come back from north of the Wall once before. Jon Snow is not easily killed.”

She didn’t say anything.

 

In the coming days, Daenerys busied herself with logistics of the battles to come and most of all with overseeing the progress being made on her troops armours and clothes. The dothraki especially suffered stiff from the cold weather that seemed to only ever get worse. The giant storm that hit them just days after Jon Snow and the rest had set out on their mission only made that worse. Dragonstone itself was filled to the brim with her people. Especially the Dothraki women and children were having a hard time getting accustomed to being shut in and bound to one place. They were free folk, nomads that were used to living everywhere and nowhere. The fortified walls of the keep seemed more like a prison to them than the safety they were. It couldn’t be helped of course but that did not keep Daenerys from worrying. Her sleep was uneasy these days. Any given night, she awoke in mild terror of whatever dream she had had but one night, she was shaken so violently awake, she knew at once that her dream was more warning than fabrication.

 

She saw Jon and Jorah, back to back, encircled by men, but not quite men, not whole men. They were falling apart, yet moving and attacking, where they should be crumbling corpses. She had Grey Worm call upon Tyrion at once and met him, drowsy and slightly drunk, leaning on the painted table in the main hall.

“I don’t like your face,” he told her, manners loose from the wine he smelled like, “this is the face you make when you’re about to make a rash decision I can’t talk you out of.”

“You know me well by now, my drunkard friend,” Dany nodded.

“What have you decided to do at this late hour?”

“I am going to fly my dragons to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea,” she answered. “I believe Jon and the rest are in trouble. I...had a dream. A vision, I believe.”

“I must strongly advise you not to act on a dream, my queen,” Tyrion said immediately, his face speaking volumes but he must’ve known it was no use.

“I will leave at once,” Daenerys told him, “Dragonstone is yours until I return.”

Tyrion sighed, he tried to protest again but then thought better of it.

“I _will_ return,” she promised and then left the dwarf in the chamber to go and rouse her dragons.

 

Her children were easily awoken. She had three cows brought to their cave underneath the castle as breakfast and then spoke in hushed tones to Drogon before she climbed on his back. He carried her out to the shore with the others following him curiously. It was still pitch dark and cold outside. A few hours into their flight the sun rose on their band of winged creatures but since they were headed north, it did not get warmer. Dany was glad for Drogon’s natural heat beneath her. His dragon blood ran hot and kept her from growing too cold herself. For a while, she pressed her whole body against him and it was almost like he knew what she was doing, lifting his neck and head to provide a shield from the wind. She fell asleep like this, only to awaken under a half frozen cloak with Viserion having a hard time keeping up with his brothers. By the position of the sun, Dany guessed that they had traveled the better part of seven hours and it was time to find a herd of sheep or cattle somewhere that her children could feed on. She gave a few short words of encouragement to Drogon and he understood, scoping until he found a lone meadow with a herd they devoured in full among the three of them. Dany left a generous amount of golden coins that would pay for a flock twice as large among the charred ashes and bones of the animals. She was truly thankful for that nourishment carried her children the rest of the way to the Wall.

 

She recognized it from leagues and leagues away as it rose before her. A sight to even her eyes. They’d said that the pyramids of Slaver’s Bay were monstrous but they would surely be dwarfed by the massive wall of ice coming toward her. She steered Drogon closer to the shoreline, keeping an eye out for the outpost that was Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. As soon as it came into view, she descended on the little outpost but only so far that she could see the ship Jon and the others had sailed out on was still sitting in the harbour, void of any crew. So she flew on and on until she left the wall to her left and saw nothing but icy trees covered in snow for miles and miles and miles. The cold was biting but she did not have time to linger on it. Instead, she kept a fierce concentration on trying to spot a scene of a battle. One like what she saw in her dream. It only now occurred to her how silly she would look if it would turn out that it had really only been a dream and she would’ve flown her dragons to a band of jolly travelers, an undead easily handled among them. What would she say to Jon then? And to Jorah? Daenerys would never learn the answer because soon enough, she saw what she both expected and dreaded to find. A battle on a frozen lake, an island crawling with those withering creatures she had seen in her sleep, vastly outnumbering the men in their midst. She could make out Jorah’s blond hair as clear as day, even with the sun setting slowly. She saw the lad Gendry, fighting three of the undead at the same time, and then Jon, swinging his sword expertly, keeping four of them at bay while looking out for one of his men by his side.

 

In a sharp turn, Dany pulled her mount around and downward, ready to give him the command to burn whatever crossed his way and then they saw her. The undead seemed to care little, but the white creatures among them, those who appeared superhuman to her, different from the decaying corpses, as well as Jon and the rest, took notice of her. And then everything happened at once. She charged down, on Drogon’s back and yelled “Dracarys” in his ear, loud enough to carry over to the other two and they all headed her command. Left and right, bodies were lit aflame and she carved out a short stretch of land for Rheagal to land on and give cover to the bulk of the fighting men. As far as she could count, they were no more than five or six still standing. But only four, spearheaded by Jorah Mormont, fought their way to the dragon. Daenerys yelled at the green beast when she saw him growing restless at the advancement but she did not need to worry. As soon as Jorah was in reach of the beast, Rheagal calmed down, recognizing that it was a friend approaching.

 

Meanwhile, Jon Snow was still engaged in a battle with numerous undead fighters. He had seen her, surely, but couldn’t do much in order to let her know what he needed her to do. So Dany just tried to commandeer Drogon and Viserion to burn as many opponents as possible without burning him as well. She got closer, further onto the ground as the lake around the small island started disintegrating around them. Closer yet until she could hear Jon shouting.

“Get them away from here,” he yelled at her, finding her eyes while still batting at dead men. “Get them on the dragon!”

“He won’t carry them,” she shouted back, “that’s not how it works!”

“Jorah!” Jon was screaming even louder now. “He knows them, they’ll let him! Make them!”

 

Dany wanted to argue with him but there was no point; Jon was right. Even with the three dragons, they were outnumbered one to twenty on the ground. Her children could keep burning away the fringes but they couldn’t get close enough to really make a difference, not without endangering themselves and those they were trying to protect. So flying the band out was the only viable option for survival.

“Viserion, stay with him,” she called out to the dragon still in flight overhead and steered Drogon away to where Jorah, Rheagal and the rest were fighting the onslaught.

Dany barked her commands at broth dragon and men and watched in terror as Jorah approached Rheagal less slowly and measured than he should have. She was holding her breath for the eternity it seemed to take until Rheagal bowed his head and let Jorah help the three other men climb upon his back. Then the animal nudged Jorah for a moment, as if in a silent plea to hurry up as the undead warriors were ever closing in. Jorah listened and began to climb up but in the last moment, got back down and grabbed one of the wights, as they called them, by the neck and flung him up too. The three other men on the dragon’s back had a hard time holding on to both beast and undead but Jorah climbed up swiftly now and helped. Then, in a flash the green dragon set off and upward, batting his wings and hauling fire at the ground. Dany could breathe again, if only for a moment.

 

“Fly them out!” She called out to Jorah, “I will get Jon and we will meet you at the harbour!”

Her faithful knight nodded and obeyed. Within a wink, her sapphire dragon was rising into the sky and out of sight. Good, this way she was able to focus on extracting Jon, however that would work. Viserion was tiring, she could see that from the size of his fire breaths, growing steadily smaller. She called out for him to hold on. She only needed to find a way to get to Jon. It would be over soon. Dany tried to maneuver Drogon’s massive form so that she could get closer to Jon without injuring or hindering him in the process. It proved difficult but not undoable and Jon did his part, carving out a path through the fighting corpses toward a pile of burning bones left by Rheagal. There, Drogon could land somewhat safely and Daenerys understood Jon’s purpose readily. He was moving towards her. Only a few more steps until he would be able to reach out. And Dany didn’t wait until he made more ground. She leaned forward, holding on to one of Drogon’s scales with all her might while throwing her free arm out to grip Jon’s outstretched one. Her heart stopped for a second when he grabbed it and their eyes met for a feverish second. Then, Dany squeezed her thighs around her mount to signal him _‘up. Up, up and away from here as fast as you can!’_.

 

Jon Snow was dangling a few feet above the ground when a heart wrenching screech filled the air like a siren and both Dany and the dragon she rode whipped around.

_No. No, no, no, it can’t be!_

She wanted to scream out in pain with him. Her precious child. Viserion, tumbling through the air, caught by...what was it? A spear was wedged between his ribs and Dany felt the pain as if it was her own. She screamed, blinded by her terror and she could see how Viserion fought to stay afloat through misty tears that had sprung to her eyes. And then she saw where the assault had come from - across the lake stood a creature, one of the white ones, with piercing blue eyes that bore into her soul. And in his hands was another spear and he was raising it, aiming it. At her and Drogon.

“Dany!” Jon called out. The first time that he had ever used her nickname and that did it’s part of getting her attention. “Go!”

And then she felt him trying to free himself from her grip.

“What? No!”

“You gotta go, there’s no time,” he yelled, his face grave and determined.

“I won’t leave you,” she screamed back at him but he had almost wiggled loose from her.

“Go, Daenerys,” he shouted, “Now!”

And with that she lost him and he fell, into a sea of corpses and with him, Viserion. Her wonderful scaled child crashed into the lake, icy water splashing and blocking the sight on the scene long enough for Drogon to take full flight and miss the second of the spears that had killed his brother.

“No,” Daenerys cried out.

She cried for Viserion, for herself and for Jon. Who was left behind beneath her, out of reach. She tried to get Drogon to dive back down but her mount wouldn’t. It was better this way, smarter. But she couldn’t believe it. She had lost a child. And an important ally, all at once. The feeling was hollow and crushing all at once and tears burnt her cheeks. Not Jon. Not Jon of all people. She had so much to learn about him still.

 

Back at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, Daenerys was inconsolable. Jorah and the others were badly injured and needed to spend days in the care of an elderly measter who enlisted the few young women still living in the town to aide him. All the while Dany sat with Rheagal and Drogon, trying to console them and herself over the loss of their brother. The townsfolk stayed as far away from the beasts as possible and Dany was secretly glad for it. She did not want to see or talk to anybody. Not even Jorah. A part of her did want to speak to him, to cry in his arms about her losses like a child, but she thought better of it. Mostly because a big part of her grief had to do with never seeing Jon again and she wanted to spare the Andal this particular knowledge. Her mood was glum as seldom before and it wouldn’t brighten, not even with her companions healing up and the wind rising perfectly to bring them all home on their ship. The thought of returning to Dragonstone without Viserion or Jon seemed unbearable. Telling Tyrion that his one old friend had died for a measly wight, chained to the bottom of the ship so he couldn’t cause any more havoc  would be crushing. It seemed so unfair, that this creature lived on in its way while Jon was gone. Or worse, she thought, turning into one of them himself. Her whole body shuddered imagining this and it never seemed to stop until she saw Jon ride into the harbor on a half-decaying horse. He was alive. Hurt badly, but alive.

 

She rushed to him and found that he could scarcely talk. There wasn’t much time left, she knew and he needed better help than the meager old measter could supply so Dany made a decision. This decision wasn’t met with much enthusiasm, especially by the men she’d gotten to know as Jon’s wildling friends. But she made it anyway and strapped a mostly unconscious Jon onto Rheagal’s back and set out with him and Drogon to fly back to Dragonstone. A day and half a night later, Jon was tended to by four of her best healers and every wise woman her khalasar had to spare. After three days had passed, the King in the North could sit up by himself again and managed his hours awake without milk of the poppy.

 

On the fourth evening, he stood in front of her chambers, walking alone. She opened her door to him and sent Missandei away, not really sure why but knowing she wanted to be alone with him. She didn’t think she wanted to seduce him or demand any kind of service like she had with Daario. The thought alone made her throat close up with nerves. If nothing else had, this proved to her that the feelings for Daario had never run really deep, whereas what she felt for Jon Snow was almost deafening. It soaked through her entire body, seeping through her bones into her very core. When he sat down at her table, gladly accepting the wine she offered, she half wanted to cry. She had not thought herself capable of such tenderness she felt, not after Drogo. Yet there she was, willing to lay herself at the feet of this man who still seemed to have neither knowledge or opinion about any of it.

“I am sorry that you lost your dragon,” he said after a while of sipping from his cup. “If it hadn’t been for me, you’d still have him.”

“Nonsense,” she said but it sounded weak to her ears.

“No, you were right,” he said, “I should have listened to you and brought reinforcements, at the very least a group of Unsullied like you offered. I was not prepared and that’s my fault. If you hadn’t come, we all would have died. And then Viserion payed for it.”

“What’s done is done, my lord,” Dany conceded.

“I’m no lord,” Jon muttered. “I’m a bloody bastard who knows nothing.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, trying to be encouraging and putting her hand on his arm again. But this time, for the first time, it was skin on skin and - she couldn’t be sure but she almost was - he gasped when they touched.

“My sword is yours,” he said after a while and then abruptly stood as if he had remembered something. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped to one knee before her, continuing: “And I don’t need to be king in the north, I never wanted to be king of anything. I only hope that now that you’ve seen what’s beyond the wall, you understand what must be done before anything else. You need to help me fight the White Walkers or there won’t be any kingdoms left to rule. Once that’s done, if I’m still alive at the end of it, you’ll have me among your subjects for however long I have left. I can’t promise you Winterfell, that’s not mine to give, but I can promise you my fealty and my sword. This I swear, this I pledge.”

 

He hadn’t really looked at her for any of that, only at the end did he meet her eyes, gazing up to her, and she found his brown ones open and true. She believed him and she did not fear betrayal or ulterior motives. She felt that in this moment, she knew Jon Snow. She believed that he never wanted to be king, that he would never take a crown for himself. And in that moment, she knew with soaring, blinding clarity, that she wanted to give him one all the more. That one day, if they would make it through the winter, or maybe even before, she would make him her king and conquer and rule with him by her side. But she didn’t tell him that. It was too soon. He had just survived a brush with death, he should be allowed to heal up before she thrust any other life-changing proceedings on him.

 

“I thank you, Jon Snow of Winterfell,” she said. “I will be glad to count on your sword and your fealty in the years to come, as you can count on me in the great war ahead.”

He sat in front of her still and she looked at him, there on his knee, thinking wickedly of Daario there, imagining Jon in his stead but she cast the thought aside. There were more pressing matters, even if what she imagined was so sweet and so tempting to linger on.

“You may rise,” she said, slightly breathless and Jon did, keeping his eyes on her all the way up.

He was roughly of her height, which brought his face tantalizingly close to hers and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. Wondering if he felt it too, the heat that suddenly filled the air, making it buzz like the storm clouds building up outside. If he did, he didn’t show it.

“I should leave,” he said then, his voice a low murmur and Dany found herself nodding even though she wanted to shake her head and scream no.

“Good night, Jon,” she said, quietly.

“Good night, Dany,” he replied and leaned forward, ever so slightly and then he kissed her on the forehead, knocking the air out of her lungs.

 

It would be weeks before she would take him to bed for the first time, and it would happen on a ship headed to the end of all things, and it would be perfection. But that night, once Jon had left, Daenerys knew that she had found the man she would love with all her heart until the earth itself had crumbled into dust. And she was hopeful as a child, because at last it seemed like he might feel so too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So...what do you think? I tried to just get it out on paper, how this leak could be plausible and of course with my shipper goggles on. So does it seem like this could happen? What is your take on the reddit leaks..realistic? Not so much? How did you interpret them, what do you want to see happen in season 7?


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